Pickles and Peanut Butter
by AlElizabeth
Summary: Set Any Season. They say that food is strongly connected to memory and for one of the Winchester brothers, a particular type of sandwich brings back some not-so-pleasant memories.


Dean Winchester stood frozen in the doorway to the Bunker's enormous kitchen, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape as he watched his brother take another bite of the sandwich he had made.

Sam caught Dean's gaze and frowned, swallowing the mouthful before speaking.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What are you eating?" Dean asked and took a step into the kitchen.

Sam glanced down at the sandwich in his hand, confused, "A sandwich? What does it look like?"

"I know what it is," Dean argued, "But, you're not eating what I think you're eating, are you?"

For a moment Sam said nothing and then smiled.

"Peanut butter and pickles," he replied.

"No way," Dean gave him an incredulous look now, thinking that Sam was maybe pulling his leg.

The younger Winchester nodded, "I had a craving for it."

Dean just shook his head, "It's been how long since we've had that?"

Sam shrugged, "Years. We were just kids."

Dean nodded and walked into the kitchen; Sam, leaning against the counter, moved over to give him space.

Dean picked up the other half of Sam's sandwich from his plate and took a large bite. He closed his eyes as he chewed.

"Tastes just like I remember," he told Sam and his brother chuckled.

"Yeah," Sam commented and set his partially eaten half of the sandwich on his plate.

"How long was Dad gone?" he asked his older brother.

Dean opened his eyes and swallowed, no longer smiling.

"Ten days."

Sam nodded, "Ten days."

"He was only supposed to be gone for seven at the most," Dean added, "He thought he'd left us with enough food."

Dean paused; recalling in vivid detail the run-down motel room they had stayed in with its water-stained ceiling, rusty bathroom sink and tub, paper-thin walls, and mattresses like rock. He remembered how thin and dusty the blankets were and how Sam's eyes had swollen up with allergies as he huddled beneath them because the radiator in the room was broken. He remembered thinking _today; Dad's going to come back today_ as each morning dawned with no sign of their father. He remembered how he started carefully portioning out their food supply as the days passed and how, on the tenth day, Sammy woke him up, crying because he was hungry, and Dean had had to scrape together whatever he could to keep his brother fed.

They only had three stale slices of bread left, an unopened jar of pickles and a bottle of peanut butter that they had been eating out of with plastic spoons. Dean, frustrated and scared, had thrown together the three ingredients, making a triple-decker peanut butter and pickle sandwich, praying all the while his brother- a notoriously picky eater- wouldn't turn his nose up at it.

Dean needn't have worried though; his brother had wolfed down his half of the sandwich as though it was the best thing he had ever tasted and, with a full belly, had promptly fallen asleep on the dust mite-covered bed.

Dean, at eight-years old, had nibbled at his own sandwich, wanting to make it last in case John failed to return. He wanted to be able to have something to eat and to offer something to his brother if need be.

Luckily, that evening, the Winchester patriarch had stumbled through the motel room door, exhausted, carrying a greasy bag of take-out in one hand and his duffel in the other. Dean never told John about how close he and Sam had been to starving to death but he made a promise that if he ever had to eat a peanut butter and pickle sandwich again, it was a sure sign they were in trouble.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam's voice brought him back to the present day and he looked at his sibling.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean assured his brother.

Sam polished off his sandwich and set the plate in the sink to wash later.

"Hey, Sammy?"

Sam glanced at Dean, frowning.

"Dean?"

"Are we okay?" Dean asked.

His younger brother paused for a moment or two before he spoke.

"Yeah, Dean, we're okay," Sam replied, "Why wouldn't we be?"

He waved a hand dismissively, "Nothing, it doesn't matter."

Sam shrugged and left the kitchen. Dean glanced down at his half sandwich, one bite taken out of it, and decided that although he was not a superstitious person, he had better not tempt fate and dumped it into the garbage beneath the sink.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Just a little story I thought of today.**

 **I've never eaten a peanut butter and pickle sandwich but I know some people do. I enjoy peanut butter, honey and banana. My Dad eats peanut butter and cheese sandwiches- sometimes with red onion on them- and although I have tried them- without the onion- I am not a big fan.**

 **Please leave a review if you liked this story and let me know what's the weirdest food combination you like to eat!**


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